A Different Kind of Witch
by Jane Meurig
Summary: Ash is a muggleborn who gets a letter to Hogwarts. I decided to cut this fanfic short, however. Enjoy the first 4 chapters all you wish, but there is nothing more after that.
1. The Good News Letter

**Author's Note: **This chapter has been changed a bit since last year. Just thought I'd fix it here, too. About the footnotes: I don't know how to make it link from the number to the bottom of the page where the footnote is written because I don't yet know how to code html to do that. My dad might now (seeing as he is an engineer), but I can't bother him right now because he's working. So, you'll have to find a way to keep your place (I would just select a big section of it with my cursor so it's highlighted), then go to the bottom of the page and read. I tried just putting them into parentheses and it didn't fit right. We're still alive, you still have a story to read, and I have a story to write, so here you go:

* * *

An owl flew up to her window and pecked at it impatiently. Ash looked up from her book to see what made the noise, and was surprised despite the number of strange events that occurred around her daily. Birds normally came to her window, but not owls carrying envelopes in the middle of the afternoon. The owl flew in and perched on her bedpost when she opened the window. It looked at her expectantly, so she took the letter from its beak, then it promptly began to preen itself.

There was no return address, but her own very detailed address was written in emerald ink on the parchment saying:

Ms. A. Morgan

The first floor bedroom

37 Mount Pleasant Drive

Hayle

Cornwall

"That's odd," Ash said to herself. She turned it back over and tore it open. Inside were 3 sheets of parchment. The first read in the same green ink:

Hogwarts School

of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,

Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Ms. Morgan,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

She read it twice to make sure she didn't miss anything. Still in shock she unfolded the next piece of parchment which revealed a list as follows:

Hogwarts School

of Witchcraft and Wizardry

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk

A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot

Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling

A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch

One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore

Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander

The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

Witchcraft and wizardry? Hogwarts? Spellbooks and wands? Was it a joke? None of it was believable, but neither was the time she mysteriously managed to explode a toilet from ten meters away or when she caught fire to her teacher's hair from across the classroom. But no matter how strongly Ash believed it was true, or how many times she explained that these and other events were further proof of its truth, her parents would never believe it. They had no doubt their 11-year-old daughter was a nutter and that this was another excuse to run away from 'real' school.

But it was worth a try.

Besides, it was better to think it was real. If it turned out so, she'd be better off, and if it didn't...well, things couldn't get worse, so what difference did it make?

There were too many extraordinary things happening around her too often. Just like the time she was thrown of a cliff and stopped falling two feet short of sharp rocks. There was no choice but to at least try to convince her parents and somehow find out how to get to wherever you could buy this stuff. Thinking of which, she remembered the third piece of parchment.

Dear Ms. Morgan,

We understand you come from a family of non-magic people, also known as muggles, so a staff member will be sent to escort you and a parent or guardian to London where you can buy supplies on August 15th at 9:30 am. Enclosed is a train ticket to Hogwarts from King's Cross station in London.

Please return post with the owl that delivered this letter. Thank you.

Enjoy your year at Hogwarts. Yours Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

Deputy Headmistress

That will show them, she thought. There'll be no way they can deny this whole thing when a wizard shows up to escort us... She lost her train of thought when she realized something. Where would you buy magic supplies in London? But then she reassured herself again that she would find out soon: when whoever it was did show up in a week and a half.

Ash went to her desk and grabbed paper and pen, quickly writing a reply telling them she'd be at school on September 1. She folded the paper and gave it to the owl which glided right back out the window and into the distance.

She reread her letters again, then slumped back into her chair. There wasn't anything left to do, it seemed. Ash then spotted a small, lavender piece of paper with silver embellishment. She pulled it out from underneath the other pieces of parchment and read it. "London to Hogwarts for one way travel." And underneath that in big silver letters: "Platform 9¾."

What kind of platform is that? Where is that? Somewhere in the abouts between 9 and 10, said a very snide voice in her head.

She sighed and put the piece of paper back down on the desk. Just one more thing she'd have to find out soon enough. She sat a few minutes wondering about magic, but knew she couldn't sit like that through the rest of summer. Instead, she climbed out the window and went as stealthily as possible (1) to the end of Mount Pleasant. She turned right onto Chapel Hill, which lead to Commercial Road, which she crossed to reached the dock. It was a smaller dock, since that bit of water didn't connect to the other bits of water, and therefore didn't have many boats, but it was great for diving and swimming. The air was cooler by the water than it was up the hill in the sun, but it never got very hot at all, anyway. Ash sat down on the edge with her feet and sandals dangling in the water that gently lapped the wooden dock.

She thought about the letter, not questioning its reality since she knew she'd done magic before. Once she almost felt she could fly. She wondered that if magic _was_ real, maybe there were mermaids in the water. When she decided it was unlikely, she felt someone step onto the dock which was small enough for the slightest movements to affect it.

Ash stood up and turned around to find herself face to face with Bill Miller, also known as Big Billy or Big Bully. His wide frame put her entire body in the shade easily. But even in his shadow with a few of his friends behind him she was not afraid, because now more than ever, she knew she had an advantage that he could never have. She grinned at the thought.

"What's so funny, Morgan? Think I'm funny do you?" he provoked.

"A little," she answered. Her grin widened, "but you'd be funnier if there was a stick through your head."

"Oh, I'd hoped you'd forgotten that. I'm sorry...sorry I didn't kill you the first time."

"Eleven-year-olds shouldn't be murderers in the first place. I wonder why you keep trying."

"I wonder why you're not dying." Then, turning to his friends – no, cronies – and grinned evilly. "But maybe you'll drown _this_ time."

The wind picked up violently, whipping her long hair in every direction and making waves start crashing over the edge of the dock. "You'll never even touch me. You won't dare." Her eyes flashed angrily.

His eyes showed fear, but he forced a laugh and badgered further, "You need anger control or something? " He stopped laughing when a giant wave leaped up and crashed down right on top of Bill and his gang. They all fell over onto their backs from the weight and got soaked through the bone, but Ash escaped the wave by an inch. She remained firmly planted on her spot despite all the dock's rocking and tossing.

They all risked fearful glances back, but ran away as fast as their legs could carry them. As soon as Bill was out of sight the weather calmed down and the streaks of fire in her hair disappeared. It always did that when she was angry or irritated, but she'd never managed to make the lake toss like that before. Besides that, she normally saved herself after they tried to kill her. Last time she only barely escaped them trying to spear her through the head with a tree branch. It bent itself to keep from striking her, then wrenched itself from Billy's grasp and whacked him on the shoulder.

It wasn't time for her parents to be home yet, so Ash sat back down at the edge of the dock, swishing her feet around in the water that was again lapping gently against her legs. After a moment she decided it was pointless to just sit there bored again, so she dived into the water in all her clothes and went swimming. She always loved swimming; it felt just like flying, except that the further you went, the more pressure there was, rather than the other way around. She didn't get to go flying much, however, since her parents were deathly afraid of airplanes, or perhaps they were simply against the idea of them, and never wanted to fly anywhere.

Then again, they gave Ash so much freedom, hardly caring what happened to her, they wouldn't notice if she flew to Norway alone and spent two weeks there. She couldn't do that though, since she didn't have her own money. She was only eleven years old, after all. Even she could admit that.

Ash was lazily floating on the surface of the water when she absentmindedly looked at her watch and jerked upright in surprise. It was much later than she thought, and her parents had been home from work for two hours already. While she was in the water she hardly noticed that it was getting dimmer outside. Eager now to show the Hogwarts letter to her parents she set of running as though there was fire at her heels, and for a split second she felt like there actually was.

The door was locked since her parents kept it that way while everyone was inside (for no practical reason that Ash could see). When Ash's mother came and opened the door she said, "Home finally? We already ate so make yourself dinner."

"Where were you?" her father asked without the slightest hint of concern or interest. (2)

"I was out swimming," Ash answered plainly.

He turned around to look at her where she now stood: a bit behind the couch where he sat. "You're not wet," he stated coolly.

She hadn't noticed it at first but in her sprint home she had miraculously, but completely, dried off. However, after a quick thought she realized it didn't matter. "Well, I've got a letter from a school called Hogwarts. I'll go get it."

Ash hurried to her room, grabbed the parchment letter, then ran back down the hall. Her mother and father sat together on the sofa watching the news but not listening. They scooted closer to each other so they could read it together. Almost immediately after reading the title: "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Mr. Morgan, still unhappy-looking asked, "What is this rubbish?"

"I told you, I got invited to a school," Ash answered indignantly.

"I'm not paying for this if its some dodgy old fool teaching magic tricks. This headmaster, Alfus Bumblebore...Dumb-door...what's-his-face – I wouldn't expect more than a bunch of aba kedabra nonsense from a name like that."

Ash stubbornly ignored her father's snide remark and her mother's astonished face, and waited for them to finish, sitting on the arm of the second sofa with her arms crossed. It didn't take long, then she shoved the other note under their noses, now paying attention to their faces with glee at their shock that a wizard was going to show up at their house on August 15th.

Her father skimmed the first piece of parchment again and asked, "What's this mean, they await your owl?"

"Well, it was an owl that brought me the letter, and I wrote back and it took it and flew off again. I guess that's how they get their letters around," she answered, pretending she didn't notice that her dad wasn't liking the idea of owl post.

"You don't think they use those blasted birds for post, do you? The ruddy things are always flying into your room. Is that what they've been doing all this time, eh?"

"No, they never carry letters. They're just there to say—"

"They don't _say_ anything, Ashley," interrupted her mother scornfully. Ash tensed when her full first name was used but resisted the temptation to punch Mrs. Morgan's lights out.

"Birds certainly _sing_," she corrected, "and who says their singing doesn't mean any—"

"You're _not_ going." Her father finally stood up, his bony face shadowy and angry eyes burning with rage. "This...school...doesn't even _exist_, I'm sure. You, Ashley Morgan, would not hesitate to make up such a ridiculous story."

She opened her mouth in protest, but closed it again knowing that saying anything would only make herself more angry. She had expected them not to believe it, after all, so why did she care about them? Why was she shaking from head to foot with such strong, burning anger and why did her eyes feel like they, too, were on fire? She felt like everything they said was a deep insult to everything she was. Mispronouncing Albus Dumbledore's name, acting as though magic was a bunch on nonsense words and mumbo jumbo, talking of birds as though they were senseless, speechless, useless, ugly, disgusting...it all made her soul want to burst out of its dam and drown everyone. Headmaster Dumbledore sounded like a very powerful wizard, especially after that long list of awards: Order of Merlin, first class and so on. That had to be significant (especially to a hopeful eleven-year-old). And hadn't anyone noticed the magic? She made a wave crash all the way over the docks on a perfectly calm day, and that most certainly was not mumbo jumbo. And birds had always been her good friends. Some of her only friends...

The pent-up anger was twisting her stomach and her heart was beating faster, but all of a sudden everything stopped when her father laughed his cold laugh as he sat back down next to her skinny little mother and turned on the news. The sound and flash of the TV jerked her back to this world and she found herself very suddenly hungry. She hurried into the kitchen and warmed up some leftovers for herself, then tromped back to her room where she shut the door and went to bed, purposely leaving the school letter out in the living room for her parents to mull over. She wondered how she ever got magic growing up with these people. They were hardly parents at all. That word they used in the letter for non-magic people...muggles, yes. They were the worst sort of muggles imaginable.

* * *

(1) Her neighbors and schoolmates were not very friendly. She didn't just fall of the cliff that time, she was pushed off. She had also been punched, cut, stabbed, drowned, and burned, among other things which never succeeded.

(2) Which made Ash wonder why he asked at all. If he didn't care, why bother? Maybe it's because it made him feel more fatherly, but he wasn't the kind of person who would care about feeling fatherly, either. Some things we never know.


	2. Chim Chim Cheree

The days dragged on until August 15th which dawned bright and clear. Ash woke up at 6:30 am with the sun shining through her open window and a lark perched on the ledge, singing impatiently. When she approached it, it chirped indignantly and hopped to the currently empty birdfeeder outside her window. She refilled it only yesterday, but she took the feed box out of her closet and returned to the window. The lark hopped to a nearby branch so she could take the birdfeeder out of the tree and pour more seeds into it, which was exactly what Ash did. Fifteen other birds came out of the branches and hopped up and down like excited puppies (which is a hard thing for birds to imitate). As soon as she hung the feeder back in the tree, they all dove in, competing for the morning's meal.

Ash smiled and shook her head as she sat down at her desk, above which the Hogwarts letter was pinned to her bulletin board. It seemed too fantasy-like to be real, but the thrill she felt in her throat and her gut could not be denied. Then she could not help asking herself how this wizard would arrive at the house. It would be boring and a pity if he simply drove up in a normal car. She was really hoping he'd come by magic. She wanted to see it so she could really believe it. It would prove magic to her parents, as well. _They_ thought it was blasphemy, not that they were religious at all.

She spent the next two hours doodling what she thought magic would look like and jumping off the bed to see if she could fly. The latter, unfortunately, didn't work. In the last hour she ate breakfast, and got dressed and ready to go. Mr. and Mrs. Morgan acted as though it was a perfectly normal summer day when her father would go to work selling lawnmowers and her mother would trim the garden. Everyone was in the living room reading the newspaper, dusting the shelves, or staring out the window expecting something when there was a loud—

_CRACK._

It made her parents jump. Mrs. Morgan turned around and backed up against the bookcase she was dusting, clinging onto its sides. Her father almost tore apart his newspaper when he tried to stand up and do a back flip at the same time.

A tall, skinny, red-haired, balding man popped out of thin air in front of the fireplace. He held a small flowerpot and looked uncomfortable like he'd just squeezed through a tube, but nonetheless was gazing in awe at the Morgan family, with Ash's parents gazing back in terror.

The man's clothes were a bit shabby, but it was an improvement from the stiff cleanliness of her parents in her opinion. He looked around the room with fascination, especially marveling at all the simplest things, such as the ceiling fan and an electric lamp in the corner. Finally he announced with his hand out to shake her parents', "I'm Arthur Weasley from the Ministry of Magic."

Mr. Morgan stared at the hand as though it were contaminated, so Mr. Weasley lowered it and continued with no less excitement, "The school didn't have enough available staff, so Professor Dumbledore called on the ministry, and here I am! Not exactly my normal job, but this should be fun!"

"Where are we going, sir?" Ash asked eagerly.

"You must be Ashley—"

"Ash," she corrected.

He nodded, "Thank you, Ash. We're going to London."

"That's no short distance," her father argued.

"That's why we're traveling by floo powder. You're muggles, so you won't be able to come along, but you're daughter is safe with me. But that reminds me! She'll need a good deal of money...first year, you know, need the robes, a wand, lots of supplies and of course, books."

"And you expect me to trust you with a big wad of money?"

"Oh no, that's not necessary. Ash can hold on to it."

He wasn't satisfied with the reply but he continued to ask, "How much money?"

"Oh I don't know about muggle money, but if you get a good wand and nice robes, that'd be around fourteen galleons...ridiculous, really. Second-hand robes are fine, though a new wand is still the best choice, I'd say. So what's ten galleons in muggle money?"

"You pay in galleons? What are they made of?" Ash had to ask.

"They're gold. Galleons are wizard money. There's knuts and sickles, too – twenty-nine bronze knuts to a silver sickle, and seventeen sickles to a gold galleon. I don't know what any of that is in...what is it you have? I really do wish I could remember. I have so much to learn about muggles." He shook his head wistfully, but added on enthusiastically, "But that's the best part, isn't it? Learning about it all?"

"What are muggles?" asked Ash's mother.

"Non-magic people...like yourselves. It's fascinating how you get along without magic, really." He spoke in almost a whisper, as though it were a very exciting secret, "I've never quite figured out this _eckeltriticy_."

Mr. Morgan corrected, "_Electricity_." He would have added, "If you don't know that than you're hopeless and stupid in my book," but his tone said it all.

The wizard didn't notice it at all. "Oh, thankyouyesofcourse," Mr. Weasley continued cheerfully, talking fast with excitement ("giddy as a schoolboy," the saying goes).

"Assuming _wands_ cost more than shoes," Mr. Morgan said with a shiver and what he doubted he would ever normally believe, "and you'll need all that other stuff...so here." He hesitantly pulled out and handed to Ash £60, pulling his hand back quickly as soon as she had hold of it. "That better last you a long time." His voice shook and Ash couldn't quite tell why.

Ash pushed it into a small purse she carried. Mr. Weasley then asked, "You have your supplies list?"

"It's in my room – I'll go get it." She practically galloped to her room, pulled the parchment off her bulletin board, and took the hallway back in leaps and bounds in record time.

"Good. So, I think we're ready." He showed her the flowerpot, and explained, "I suppose you've never traveled by floo powder, so I'll explain. You throw this dust," he held up the pot a little, "into the fire, step in, and announce where you're going. You go first so that I can be sure to come out wherever you do, and we say 'The Leaky Cauldron.'"

"The Leaky Cauldron," she repeated.

"Yes. Good. And remember to keep your elbows in, don't fidget or wiggle around, keep your eyes shut from the soot, and careful saying your destination _clearly_ as possible! Don't cough or anything. That's most important. Ready?"

"I think so."

"Alright, here you go."

Mr. Weasley held out the pot while she lowered her hand into it, pulling out a small handful of glittery greenish powder. Mr. Weasley took out a wooden stick that Ash assumed was a wand once he pointed it at the fireplace and said, "_Incendio!_" and flames sprung out of nothing. She tossed the powder into the new flame, which turned green, then stepped into a feeling like a warm, breezy night by a campfire. She breathed in to speak and got a mouthful of ash, coughed, and yet still managed to say "the Leaky Cauldron" audibly. Then she was falling down a giant chute, spinning and the wind howling in her ears. She shut her eyes against the ashes that felt cold now whipping against her face, or maybe it was something outside the emerald fire. Suddenly the spinning stopped and she stumbled forward into a dark pub. Now _that_ was magic. She was covered in soot, and Mr. Weasley got out of the fireplace after her looking like a chimney sweep. She thought better of bursting into "Chim Chim Cheree."

The dimly lighted pub had very few people, including the barman, and not one of them seemed remotely surprised, or even seemed to notice, that two people had just popped out of his fireplace. Mr. Weasley and Ash brushed the dust and soot off their shoulders and walked across the room to a door on the far side, which the man led her through to reveal a small courtyard surrounded by a brick wall and containing little but a trash bin and some weeds. Ash was noticing how completely unremarkable the tiny place looked as her escort started counting bricks on the opposite wall. He took out his wand from his robes – she only just noticed they were _robes_ and might have looked strange to her parents – and tapped one of the bricks three times. The red rectangle wriggled and writhed, then more of them started turning, transforming it from a wall to an archway leading into a bright cobbled street piled with shops and filled with people. She stepped out onto the path that twisted out of sight without looking back to see the archway disappear again.

"Here we are," Mr. Weasley announced, "Diagon Alley."

Big cauldrons glittered outside the shop right across the street, and the next shop after that was displaying jars of beetle eyes and bat spleens. She was lucky Mr. Weasley was tall because otherwise she would have had a hard time following him in the crowd while also watching everything else. A group of kids outside a broomstick store were admiring something, but Ash never got a proper look. The people were just as interesting as the things they bought and sold. There were men and women of all shapes and sizes wearing robes of every color and style. They finally reached a towering, crooked, columned, white marble fortress of a building that was far taller than anything else in the entire alley. On the front of the building the words "Gringotts Bank" were carved.

Her escort explained, "That's Gringotts Bank, where we'll get your muggle money exchanged. Run by goblins—my oldest son just started working for Gringotts, you know." He was right, at least, about the goblins, because one of them was standing outside the bronze doors and bowed to them as they passed through. Then there was another set of doors, silver, which were engraved with the words:

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there._

"You'd have to be seriously mad to try to rob Gringotts, see? Never know what you'd find down there. There's lots of Dragons and protective enchantments." Two more goblins on either side of the silver doors bowed them through, leading into a vast, domed, marble hall. Two rows of counters went down either side with goblins at each of them, and even more leading people through doors in the walls. Mr. Weasley found the nearest free goblin and approached the desk, saying, "Good morning. I'd like to exchange some muggle money and set up a safe, please."

The goblin seemed to have pointy everything: nose, ears, teeth, chin, even his hair was styled in two big pointy spikes like horns. Ash couldn't see his feet, but she knew they were probably long and skinny just like his hands. He answered, "That can be in order. You have the money, sir?"

Mr. Weasley looked at Ash, and the goblin leaned over the edge of the tall desk to see her as well. She took out the £60 her father had so reluctantly given her and handed it to the goblin. Mr. Weasley's eyes shone with excitement at the sight of the £10 notes, though she could see no explainable reason why. The goblin took out a piece of parchment and wrote down some figures, then reached into a drawer to take out some gold, silver, and bronze coins. He counted them out, then put a huge load of them into a leather drawstring purse that he handed to Mr. Weasley, who then handed it to Ash.

"Wait here," the goblin said as he got up to get something. He quickly disappeared behind the other goblins, but just as quickly came back with one of them in tow. He sat back at his desk, explaining, "Gripock will take you to your new safe."

Gripock had wispy brown hair and a shorter, though no less pointy nose than the other. He handed Ash a small golden key saying in a shrill voice, "Here is your key, vault one hundred and seventy-two. Follow me."

He walked toward one of the many doors that led off from the hall and both Mr. Weasley and Ash followed. He held the door open for them, and they walked into an unexpectedly narrow, stone passageway lit by burning torches. On Gripock's whistle, a cart came darting up the steep tracks that led down from their spot. All three climbed in and the cart took off again. They went hurtling down twisting trails and Ash felt the cold air's wonderful sting on her skin. Mr. Weasley appeared to be enjoying it, too, but in the way one enjoys something commonplace and familiar. She was disappointed to find that the cart stopped after only a short while, and they appeared not to be very deep in the vast caverns that could have stretched under all of London for all she knew.

Gripock unlocked the door of the empty vault which was big enough for her crawl into, but clearly not meant to hold a fortune. She dumped the money out of the leather bag and put about a quarter of it in her pockets. She looked at Mr. Weasley to make sure he agreed it was enough for all the supplies and he nodded back. Another quick cart ride later they stood in front of Gringotts Bank looking out at Diagon Alley bathing in summer's light. With supplies list and money in hand they started off.

Mr. Weasley asked tons of questions about muggles, electricity, bus stations, the underground, _escapators_, plugs...he went on and on. His curiosity could not even be distracted by Ash's own curiosity for the wizarding world, though she did manage to ask some questions, and her escort had a way of telling her all kinds of things as just side-notes. She found out his oldest son, Bill, had just graduated from Hogwarts (He was head boy last year!), Charlie was in his last year and had been Quidditch captain (whatever Quidditch was). Percy was in his third year, Fred and George, twins, were going to be first years like her, and Ron and Ginny were too young for Hogwarts.

They started out at a second-hand robe shop since both agreed that if anything could be bought for cheaper and still function just fine – not blow up on you for instance – it should be. Books, on the other hand, could have pages torn out and all kinds of horrible things done to them, so they went to a store called Flourish and Blotts for new ones. They spent a good time getting all the things on her list and she wanted to spend even longer in each of the fascinating stores, but Mr. Weasley insisted they not keep her parents waiting despite Ash's explanation of how they couldn't care less. Uncaring parents were a concept he couldn't grasp.

Finally it was time to get a wand. Her guide pointed the way to Ollivander's, a dusty old shop with peeling letters and one wand on a faded purple cushion on display. As they walked through the door a bell jangled somewhere in the depths of the mustiness. She felt as though she was forbidden to speak out loud, as though a secret was being kept in all those skinny boxes lining every wall all the way up to the ceiling. Mr. Weasley sat on a rickety wooden chair near the door just as a soft voice spoke, "Good afternoon." Ash turned to see who startled her; an old man with wide, misty, pale eyes shining through the dusty air stood by the front desk. He continued, "I thought I might meet someone new today." Ash found the comment strange but then Mr. Ollivander noticed Mr. Weasley and exclaimed, "Ah, Arthur! She isn't another one of yours." It was not a question, but one still couldn't help feeling it needed to be answered.

"No," Mr. Weasley replied, "Hogwarts didn't have enough staff for the new students from muggle families."

"Yes, well then—Ash Morgan." She wondered how he knew her name, but didn't have time to think about it long because the old man continued, "Which is your wand arm?"

"Left, I suppose."

He pulled out a long measuring tape with silver markings. "Hold out your wand arm. There we go." And he proceeded to measure her arm in different sections, her height, shoulder to floor and so on. Rather, the measuring tape was doing it for him while he explained, "Now every Ollivander wand has a core of either dragon heartstring, unicorn hair, or phoenix tail feather. No two wands are the same because no two creatures are quite the same, and you'll see you won't get such good results from another wand than your own." The tape was measuring the distance around her pinky finger when Mr. Ollivander finally told it, "That will do." He pulled a box from a shelf and opened it, holding out the wand to Ash. "Let's see, try this one. Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches, very whippy. Go ahead and give it a wave."

It felt odd in her hand and as she did what she was told he snatched it right back. "Hmm, let's try beech and dragon heartstring, nine inches, good and flexible."

She took that one, but it wasn't right either because he took it right back again. And again. The more wands she tried the more excited he seemed to be.

"Tricky customer, aren't you? I'll find a wand for you here, not to worry. Coincidence, perhaps—an odd combination, but try...this. Ash wood, dragon heartstring, eight inches. Balanced, tough, but bendy."

He delicately handed it to her, and she immediately felt a power surge through the wand, and without even waving it, an inch long spurt of flame came out, landed on the floor and turned into a vision of a dragon drinking from a lake beside a tree with mountains behind. It disappeared so quickly that she didn't think that anyone else saw it, but it was practically engraved in her eyes.

"Well, give it a wave," Mr. Ollivander said, and she knew that he'd seen nothing. When she did wave it, sparks of red, yellow, blue, and green all shot out of the tip, the lights dancing off the walls, breaking through cobwebs.

Mr. Weasley applauded and the wand-maker proclaimed, "Yes, very good. Bravo, indeed! Coincidence not, I say. Perhaps names really do have more in them than Shakespeare thought. Well it's ash for Ash." He put it back in its box and wrapped it. She paid him seven galleons, and he waved them out of the shop. She couldn't help but feel a shiver of relief to leave the musty air and feel a breeze again.

"Well, is there anything else you'll be wanting, Ash?" Mr. Weasley asked as they left Ollivander's shop.

"Well, I don't know. What else is there?"

"You could get an owl."

She thought about it, but decided she could get any bird to deliver her mail considering the way they'd come right up to her. "No, I think I'd like a cat."

"All right, then, let's look for a...well, look at that! Day of coincidences, I think. Right here's Magical Menagerie." Indeed, right across from Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, only a few shops down past Gringotts, was Magical Menagerie.

They entered to discover it filled with cages to every inch of every wall. All of the occupants of each were making loud noises of some form or another, and it smelled like a barn. A witch wearing thick, black glasses was at the counter looking expectantly at them both. Ash approached her and said, "I'd like to get a cat."

The witch stepped out from behind the desk and guided them toward a section of cages all containing cats of different colors. Ash examined a huge ginger cat with a squashed-looking face, but it just sat and scowled. In a cage below was a cat with two heads, one purple, one blue, and stripes of those colors on the rest of its body. A black and white cat with one yellow and one green eye was in the next cage. Another cat that looked like a domesticated leopard paced back and forth and growled in its cage. Then she spotted a tiny gray and silver tabby the size of a kitten, though it was an adult cat nonetheless, meowed loudly at her and scanned her with big green eyes. When the witch opened its cage the cat promptly leaped to Ash's shoulder and sat down showing no signs of budging from that spot. Ash smiled and reached up to pat its head.

"Looks like he picked you. He hasn't a name yet," the witch said and went behind the counter again, looking glad that someone was actually buying something from her shop. "That's six galleons."

She left the shop with the cat still sitting on her left shoulder looking about, its gray and black tail swishing against Ash's neck and back. The afternoon sun was just above the peaks of Diagon Alley's stores as they made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron. Suddenly a question dawned on her. What if she wasn't any good at magic? She didn't even know it existed until she got her letter.

When she brought this up to Mr. Weasley he reassured her, "Don't worry. Everyone starts at the beginning, and there's plenty of other muggle-borns. I know a few at the ministry that are the brightest people I know. You'll have a great time at Hogwarts." He took out the pot of floo powder again and said, "I'm not following you home, now, so here's your things." He handed her the other shopping bag; she held them both in one hand so she could still grab some floo powder. "Don't forget King's Cross Station, September 1st. Everything's on your ticket. Have a nice term. You'll probably meet my sons...oh, dear...keep an eye on Fred and George, will you?"

"Thank you, Mr. Weasley. Good-bye."

"Good-bye," he answered.

Ash smiled and with a handful of floo powder and her new cat in her arms, swirled back across England to a place she could never call home.


	3. Dark Waves

Her parents weren't home yet, so after dusting off the soot, she walked to her room and looked at all the things she'd bought. She packed everything but her wand into her trunk, and let the cat get back on her shoulder. It was very comfortable there, apparently, since it stayed there while she made herself dinner. As soon as she sat down and started eating, however, it leapt out the open window and into the evening, she assumed to go hunting.

Little Hunter, she thought, That's what I'll call you. And I think the witch said you were a boy. Yes, that's perfect, then. Little Hunter.

He came back before her parents did. He had a mouse in his jaws and went to her room with it. When Mrs. Morgan got back from the neighbors where she was probably drinking wine and gossiping, she never even saw Little Hunter. Nor did Mr. Morgan when he got home from work. In fact, neither of them seemed to notice Ash all evening. The next sixteen days were lonely and filled with many hours swimming at the docks, playing with Little Hunter, and scaring off Big Bully. It was rather easy now, and none of his gang made attempts on her life anymore. Besides, they may have found the ominous way she fiddled with her wand was intimidating. She read all her course books and tried to learn a few spells, but none of them worked. She figured there was some technique to it, so wasn't really surprised, but miffed all the same that she couldn't work out even the simplest spells yet.

She checked off the days on her calendar toward September the first, and day by day it slowly came. It had been so long since her parents had made even the slightest notion they knew she existed, that finally talking to them the night before on how to _get_ to King's Cross was awkward. She came down the stairs to find them both eating dinner. Sitting down across from her father she announced, "I need to get to King's Cross tomorrow. You know, to go to Hogwarts."

"Hmm," he answered with his mouth full of potatoes. At least he was listening.

"I suppose I could take a train there, then just get on the other."

"Hmm," he repeated.

"Could you take me to the train station in Hayle?"

"Hmm."

"Alright, thanks."

She started to get up to make her own dinner, but he finally said, "I suppose you'll need money for the train tickets."

"I've got one for Hogwarts, but I'll need some for the one to London."

"What's that? A four hour train ride?"

"I think so. I'll go call the train station and ask for their times, I guess."

"Hmm."

Ash looked up the train station in the phone book and called. In five minutes, she hung up and relayed to Mr. Morgan, "There's one that leaves at six and gets to King's Cross at around nine fifty-two."

"Hmm." And he was done talking for the evening. Neither her mother nor father noticed Little Hunter come in holding a dead mouse by the tail in his teeth. He sat under her chair and they both ate dinner, and together walked upstairs for the night's sleep.

Ash woke up at five o'clock and slipped into her jeans so she wouldn't have to go all the way to London in witch's robes. She finally placed her wand in her trunk, checked her list again, and waited for her father to finish getting ready. At five thirty they were both in the car, her mother left at home still eating breakfast, heading toward the station only fifteen minutes away. With Little Hunter on her shoulder and heavy trunk in tow, they bought her ticket and her father simply left without a word. She waited, boarded the train, and waited more. The train passed miles of mostly countryside while she pet Hunter on the head. She speculated whether he was a kitten, or just a very, very small adult. If she'd known anything about body proportions she'd have known very well that he was, indeed, an adult. She hoped he wouldn't grow anymore because that would make it hard to sit on her shoulder, and she liked him there.

Finally, almost four hours later, the train arrived in London at King's Cross Station where she stood for forty-five minutes staring at platforms nine and ten, wondering where platform nine and three-quarters was supposed to be. There she was, bewildered, stranded in the middle of London with a trunk she couldn't lift, a cat, and a pocket full of gold Galleons, silver Sickles, and bronze Knuts. She asked an attendant about it twenty minutes after arriving, then another one a little while after that, but they both walked away thinking she was a nut-head. In exasperation she leaned against the barrier between the two platforms, and fell through.

Dumb luck, it seemed, for she was suddenly sitting on the other side of the barrier with a bright red steam engine waiting next to a crowded platform crammed with people, some dressed in colorful robes. A sign over a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been said _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ in brilliant gold lettering. So she'd done it.

Steam billowed out of the engine and over the people meeting old friends or finding compartments to put their trunks in before saying goodbye to their families. Most of the carriages were empty, so she chose one mid-front, and started trying to heave her trunk up the steps into the train, but could hardly lift one end of it. Nearby stood a family, every one of them with bright red hair and freckles. A tall, balding man standing next to a plump woman, who was handing out sandwiches to each of the children, she recognized as Mr. Weasley. He soon noticed her, as well, and came over to help her lift her trunk into the compartment.

"There you go," he said as it was tucked away.

"Thank you, again."

"Come and meet my sons," he invited, "so you can start off the year with some friends."

She followed him off the train and back through the crowd to the red-haired Weasley family. Two boys her age that each looked exactly the same as the other were being told by their mother, "Now, you'll not be mischief makers about the castle. I want good letters from Hogwarts, hear." The twins groaned.

There were two older boys, one who was tall and skinny with very curly hair was perhaps two years older, and the other looked sixteen or seventeen. The oldest boy was barely shorter than his father, but strong-built. The twins had wide-set shoulders and were stouter like their mother, whereas the middle boy was taller and much skinnier than both of them. A boy and a girl standing by their mother looked eight and nine. So this was Mr. Weasley's family. He introduced her to them, "Everyone, this is Ash." She turned slightly red at all seven faces turned toward her.

Mrs. Weasley had a bright smile. "Hello, deary. Fred and George are first years, as well." The two waved. "This is Percy and Charlie." Percy shook her hand pompously and Ash had to hold in her laughter. Mrs. Weasley continued, "Did you have a good summer?"

"I guess."

At that moment she was relieved of having to tell them about her own family, if family she could call them, because one of the twins' friends, a dark-skinned boy with dreads, came over.

"Hey, Lee," said one of them, she wasn't sure which yet.

"Hey George. Hey Fred." Lee looked at Ash and nodded hello introducing himself, "Lee Jordan."

She replied, "Ash Morgan."

The train whistled. Mrs. Weasley hugged her four sons and patted Ash on the shoulder not occupied by Little Hunter saying, "Have a nice year at Hogwarts, now."

They all got onto the train, and the three first year boys she met joined her compartment since by now almost everywhere else was full. Fred and George leaned out the window calling out goodbye to their mother once more. Their younger sister started to tear up and waved after them. "When can_ I_ go to Hogwarts?" Ash heard her say before she was out of earshot.

The train rounded a corner and everything disappeared; she was leaving London once more. Whatever Hogwarts was like, it had to be better than the house back in Hayle.

"Nice cat," Lee commented.

"Thanks. I call him Little Hunter." He hopped off her shoulder and examined each one of the boys to their amusement and laughter.

"I think he smells our sandwiches," George speculated as Hunter sniffed his left pocket extensively.

Just then the compartment door slid open and another first year boy peered in. "Sorry, everywhere else is full. Do you mind?"

"Not at all," said Fred.

"We can squeeze one more," continued George.

They shuffled around to maneuver the new boy's trunk into the compartment and somehow Ash ended up sitting between the twins and the other two on the opposite side. "I'm Chance Tyson," he introduced.

"Lee Jordan."

"Fred."

"George."

"Weasley," they chorused.

"Ash Morgan." Little Hunter took one last sniff at Chance and Ash introduced, "And Little Hunter." The tabby resumed its spot on her shoulder and started to stare out the window.

You don't suppose one of the two-leggers will let me have some of that corned beef? he asked.

"What?" Ash almost jumped in surprise. His voice was very sleek and proud.

"What, who?" George asked.

"Well, I thought I heard—" Her thought trailed away. She just stared at the cat.

It stared back apprehensively. Do you think so? It smells better than mice, you know.

"It smells better than...you can--?...I can--?"

"You're not making any sense," Fred remarked.

"He wants some of your corned beef sandwich," Ash replied before she bewildered herself.

"How do you know I've got a corned beef sandwich?"

"Little Hunter does. I think he wants some."

The tabby nodded.

There was an awkward silence. Finally, Lee broke it. "You can talk to your cat?"

"He only just now started..." Hunter started to say something but her head was spinning too much and she kept mumbling, "I couldn't before..."

You two-leggers are so big and slow. I said that I never got a catch last night and now we'll be in a train all day, so I would like a meal, if you please.

"I...I..."

Hello? The cat jumped on her lap and looked up questioningly. Hello in there? You have strangely colored eyes. His eyes are green. Hunter flicked his tail toward Chance. That's normal. But your eyes are brown. Why do you have brown eyes?

"I...I..."

Ok, I'll wait. He jumped to the seat across from Ash, the one between Lee and Chance, and stared at Fred's pocket.

Ash's mouth was hanging open and everyone else was looking confused glancing back and forth between Ash and her cat. Fred just stared at the big, green eyes and pulled out his corned beef sandwich slowly, watching the eyes follow the package. He unwrapped it and pulled out some of the meat, and handed it to the cat which promptly began to eat it.

"Meow."

Thanks, it said. But only Ash heard it.

There was a short but awkward silence, but Fred finally asked, "So, Ash, what's it like living with muggles?"

Relieved to have something to talk about, even if that topic was her parents, she answered, "Terrible. Well, at least with my parents, anyway. I guess other muggle parents are fine."

"Mine are." Chance added. "I mean, my mum's a muggle. But she doesn't seem all that different than my dad except she carries things instead of levitating them."

"Well, mine couldn't care less if I went missing for a lifetime. Heck, they might even be happy about it if it ever happened. For the past month neither of them have said anything but 'hmm' and 'How're you getting to school?'"

"That's rough," Lee said.

"What's more is that some guys in my neighborhood and at my old muggle school have tried to kill me. I dunno how I didn't die the time they pushed me off a cliff."

"Must a' been the magic in you," George nodded.

"You said you're from a muggle family, too?" Ash asked Chance, trying to divert the stream of attention.

"Yeah, my mum's whole side. She knows about magic and all, and doesn't mind it. It's just sort of become normal. When her relatives come over we just have to hide the talking clock and moving pictures. It's kind of fun, actually, having some of both sides. But my relatives are all fine. They just don't use wands is all. At least they love me, though. Are you serious they didn't talk to you for a month?"

"It wasn't much different than usual. It just lacked the occasional 'Go make yourself dinner.' Or 'Clean the kitchen and the dining room while I'm at work.' Otherwise I'm pretty much on my own."

"You're not joking, are you?" Fred asked cautiously, probably unbelieving that a mother could ignore her children like that since his own mother was the exact opposite.

Ash shook her head solemnly. Then, just to change the subject and out of curiosity, she inquired, "Are all your family wizards?" She was still fascinated by the wizard world.

"Mostly, I think. Maybe a distant muggle relative somewhere, I don't really bother remembering."

"I wish I'd had three wizard brothers."

"Five," George corrected. "After Bill and Charlie, there's a lot to live up to."

"A bunch of prefects."

"Bill was Head Boy."

"And Charlie's Quidditch Captain."

"At least they don't flaunt it as much as Percy would, the prick."

"Pompous prick."

"Pretentious pompous prick of a Percy."

"Try saying _that_ five times fast."

They both started chanting "Pretentious pompous prick of a Percy," and soon everyone joined in. Of course, since recent days were full of coincidences, Percy soon came walking by. Luckily enough, by now everyone was tripping over their words, and with the sound of laughter on top, Percy didn't comprehend a single thing.

He peered inside and officially stated, "I hope you are all behaving yourselves."

"Of course we are," they chimed.

"Hmph." And with that Percy walked away without shutting the compartment door.

Fred and George then pulled out some red cylinders that looked like miniature fireworks, and sniggering, lit them with a match and threw all of them in Percy's direction. Ash quickly slid the door closed while they got out of sight again, only for all five of them to press their faces against the window a second later to watch the result. Even Little Hunter stared intently.

Red, blue, green, and yellow fireworks exploded right behind Percy and sparks loudly bounced off the sides of the rumbling train. Percy himself jumped a foot into the air and screamed, had slightly singed robes and probably a bruise or two from falling over in surprise. Heads began popping out of other doors in the carriage, and laughed as the poor red-headed third-year stumbled to his feet. After a moment or two of recuperation he stormed back to the twins. He yanked the sliding door open so hard that it bounced back and hit him squarely in the head. Another stumble later and he was yelling, "You two! Filibuster Fireworks on the train! I'm going to report you!"

Without even listening to what they had to say, he raged across the carriage and out of sight and earshot. The Weasley twins had more fireworks in their trunk, but they were saving them for even better opportunities. Eventually, after a long discussion about the kinds of spells they'd really be looking forward to, and no sign of any punishment for the bit of horseplay earlier, a smiling woman pushing a noisy cart slid back the door and asked, "Anything off the trolley, dears?"

Ash, who had breakfast near five and a half hours before, was amazed at the array of sweets on the cart. Instead of having chocolate bars and caramel candies as she was expecting, she carried Chocolate Frogs, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Pumpkin Pasties, Licorice Wands, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Cauldron Cakes, huge, moving gummy worms, and other strange things she'd never seen before. Fred and George didn't get anything, even more to her surprise, but Lee got some bubble gum and Chocolate Frogs. Neither Chance nor Ash knew what to get at all (1), so they got some of everything, splitting the price between them. All eyes were wide when they dumped the armfuls of candy on the one empty seat. Fred and George's sandwiches lay forgotten in their pockets while everyone made their way through the mounds of sweets.

The twins and Lee took turns explaining why the pictures moved on Chocolate Frog cards, that you collect them, and demonstrating bubble gum-blowing tactics. George managed to make one the size of his head, but spent the next five minutes pulling the bits of gum off his face once it popped. After a lengthy debate, they all agreed Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans were by far the most exciting. Ash ate a whole bag of them, and got all the normal flavors, plus pepper, popcorn, wheat, salmon, corned beef, grass, Echinacea, paper, soap, coffee, waffles, buttermilk, vegetable juice, potato, saltine cracker, and many more. Chance wasn't half so brave at trying them after George ate a booger-flavored one.

At last, Lee and the twins landed on the subject of Quidditch, which they described at length. Famous games they'd been to, the different teams and brands of broomsticks, and some tactics being only half of what was covered in that next two hours or so, still working through the candy. Little Hunter tasted a few things and discovered he liked Chocolate Frogs, but not the Every Flavor Beans.

The group of first years hardly noticed that the clouds were darkening and drizzle was turning into a downpour until a swallow flew into the window and hit Chance smack in the face. The wet bird had a broken wing, and Ash immediately picked it up and helped it straighten up. Little Hunter eyed the bird, but seemed to know better and held back.

"Do you think it can fly?" Chance asked, rubbing his nose where its beak had poked him.

"No," she answered. "Not even in good weather. He's in a lot of pain."

"How do you know it's a boy?" Lee questioned.

She shrugged. She was absolutely sure of it, just not sure how she found out in the first place. "I just do," she answered. "He's sick, too. She how he's shivering?" The bird curled up in her lap and she slowly and steadily stroked it. The other boys stared as its shaking stopped, and stretched out its good, right wing to get more of the water off. Ash gently brushed the water off the rest of it when a voice echoed through the train saying, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

The excitement in the compartment multiplied, but none of them thought to do anything about it. The four boys remained fascinated with Ash's treatment for the bird until the compartment door slid open and Charlie said, "Hey George, Fred. Everyone. We're almost there, so you ought to get into your robes. See you at the feast. Oh and congratulations, you got Percy mad at you. But I suggest the fireworks would be in better use at a party in the common room after a Quidditch match. We're so beating Slytherin this year!"

Charlie left the brief encounter, also leaving Ash wondering aloud, "What's Slytherin?"

"One of the Hogwarts houses," answered Fred.

"All our family's been in Gryffindor," George continued. "But there's also Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin."

"Hate to be them."

"Slimy cheaters the lot of 'em."

"Name any wizard that's gone bad and he was in Slytherin."

"How do you know which one your in?" Chance was quizzical.

"They have some sort of test, I think," Lee answered.

"No, no," George corrected, "It's supposed to be really difficult."

"A test of strength—"

"Courage—"

"Hurts a lot—"

Ash interrupted, "No, they wouldn't."

"Sure they would."

"How else do you prove yourself?"

"Maybe they just stick you in someplace," Lee suggested.

"Maybe they—" but Chance cut himself short, because all of them realized the train was slowing down and none of them were in their robes. They each threw on their black school robes and stuffed their pockets with what was left of the candy. They were closing their trunks again when the train finally came to a full stop. With the bird in her inside robe pocket and Little Hunter on her shoulder, she followed the boys out of the compartment.

Once off the train, a crowd of students flooding out of it onto the small, dark platform, a voice rang out among them, "Firs' years! All Firs' years over this way! Firs' years this way!" It wasn't hard to find the voice's source, even in the rain, because the man shouting held a lantern high above the heads of all the other people, rather six feet higher, and was five times as wide as a normal man. The lantern he carried revealed a wild, bristly black beard that covered nearly all of his face except for two small black, but cheerful eyes. "Any more firs' years? C'mon, follow me, don't be shy! This way ter the boats! Watch yer step!" The timid first years gazed in wonder and fear at the giant of a man with hands the size of dinner platters and feet even bigger.

"Whoa," Fred and George chorused.

They followed him down a narrow, slippery path that appeared to be surrounded by trees by the way the darkness surrounded them. People concentrated on their footing, and so were quiet for the way down.

The giant called over his shoulder, "Jus' round the bend here yeh'll see Hogwarts."

"Ooooh!"

The trail turned and suddenly they were on the ridge of a great black lake, across which a castle perched atop a mountainside. The turrets and towers pierced the cloud-filled sky, and rain poured down upon the dark water. Its lights made it visible across the distance through the downpour. Ash was so used to Little Hunter sitting on her shoulder already that she hardly noticed him until he meowed defiantly at the water. She could swear she saw a shape rise out of it, but it disappeared so quickly that with the rain, it might not have ever existed.

A fleet of eleven tiny boats was floating on the shore. The giant pointed at them and called, "No more'n four to a boat!"

Chance climbed in with three other first years, while Ash, Fred, George, and Lee took another. The giant had one all to himself. He shouted, "That everyone? Mind you don't tip over. Right, now—FORWARD!"

The little fleet moved forward all at once, gliding across the lake that was beginning to crash in waves upon them. The wind picked up and so did excitement as the torrent nearly tipped them all over. But somehow, the boats did not fill with water, get pulled under, or completely overturned.

That is, the boats didn't. One wave came under them, making their entire boat rise about eight feet, then it dived back down nose-first after the wave. Little Hunter dashed to sit on the bottom of the boat where it, to her surprise, wasn't wet and where he could get much better footing. However, all the rest of them, though holding onto the edges of the boat as firmly as they could, were thrown backwards out of it the moment it crashed down and whipped back up again on another wave. Ash was stuck under the churning water for the moment, so she looked about in the liquid darkness to try to find the other three. At first she could barely see two feet away, but suddenly her eyes adjusted and she saw Fred and George clinging to each other looking scared and about to drown. Ash shot toward them, and they looked startled when she finally came up close. Perhaps they couldn't see so well. Looking up, she found a gap in the waves and grabbing onto the twins, dragged them up through it. Fred and George gasped for air and let go of each other so they could catch up to the other boats, which seemed to have stopped about fifteen meters in front of them.

Ash shouted to them above the noise of wind and gush of darkness about them, "I'm going back down to find Lee! You go ahead!"

Still scared, they just nodded, and started swimming with all their might back to the boat.

Ash submerged herself once again, and with the help of waves, pushed herself further underneath the surface. Lee was another ten meters away from the boats, not moving and slowly sinking. Ash saw a dark shape in the depths and hurried to save her fellow first year. Within seconds she was pulling him to the surface, noticing that his eyes were rolled back and half-closed. Praying, but still underwater, she swam in the direction she knew the boats were, but could not see a way back out of the water. Precious time was being lost and all the while, the same dark shape was coming toward them. Closer, it appeared to be a giant squid. Now more frightened than ever, Ash simply tried to force herself above the water. A wave was just coming up at that moment, and she was flung out of the water, Lee in her arms, and thrown right into the middle of the group of boats. The giant dragged Lee out of the water and Ash climbed back into her boat with Fred and George, coughing and sputtering. Little Hunter hopped onto her knee and purred while rubbing his head against her arm. The other first years looked more frightened than ever, though rather awed at Ash, and the giant called for the formation to move ahead once more. They soon reached the cliff face, covered with a huge curtain of ivy.

"Heads down!" he yelled as they came directly under it. They were carried through a hidden opening into a much calmer, dark tunnel, taking them right under the castle. They reached a cave like an underground harbor where everyone clambered out of their boats, wet and shivering. Ash wrung out her hair and shook herself out so she'd start to dry. The giant handed her his moleskin coat, but she promptly handed it to Fred and George who both fit under it easily. Following the lamp up a passageway in the rock, they came out onto a lawn of smooth grass right next to the great castle which looked even bigger from where they stood. Everyone dashed to the oak front door where there was an overhang under which they were protected from the cold shower, and wrung and shook the water off.

The giant carrying Lee in his arms asked, "Did everyone get here alright?" then looking at Ash, "That was a brave thing you done. Blimey, you're near dry!" And shaking his head, knocked three times on the door with his giant fist.

* * *

(1) His dad preferred muggle candy for some unknown reason, and "How could he? This stuff is so _cool!_" If one asked Mr. Tyson about it, he probably would have mumbled something incoherent with the occasional "wiggling around" or "ridiculous" or "Who wants candy flavored like _vomit??_"


	4. The Sorting Hat

**Author's Note:** The hardest part about this chapter was writing the Sorting Hat's song. I don't usually have any difficulty with poetry, especially since I can finish it in one sitting and not go on for years and years stuck in plot holes. But, oh well, I had to sit there thinking "What next?" for a while, and I still managed. I hope you like it.

* * *

The great door immediately swung open. A tall witch in dark green robes with a clenched jaw and tight bun of black hair stood there. She stood aside so everyone could crowd in and get warm, but still managed to make the impression of not being one to cross.

"Here they are, Professor McGonagall," the giant said.

"Thank you, Hagrid. Dear me, _is that a student??_"

"A few of 'em fell in, Professor. But this one saved all of 'em," he clapped Ash on the shoulder, making Little Hunter jump and her knees buckle.

"How very brave. Take him to the hospital wing, if you please, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Hagrid marched away up a marble staircase and out of sight. The entrance hall was big enough to hold an entire house in it, and a ceiling probably as high as the lake was deep. Its stone walls flickered with the flaming torches that lit up the entire hall. Professor McGonagall led them across the hall past a door with the sounds of hundreds of voices coming out of it, where presumably the rest of the school was already sitting, and into a small, empty chamber on the other side. They crowded in closer together than usual and nervously looked at the stern woman.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she announced, "Now, the start-of-term feast will begin momentarily and you will join your classmates, but first you must be sorted into your houses. This is very important, because while you are here your house is like your family. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each one is just as fine as the others. While you are at Hogwarts, you may earn or lose house points depending on your behavior and achievements. At the end of the year the house cup is awarded to whichever house has the most points. The ceremony will begin in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you try to dry yourselves off as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you." And so she left.

Fred and George were particularly soaked but were more worried about Lee. Chance rejoined them and whispered, "When's Lee coming back? He can't miss this, it's the sorting!"

George turned to Ash and gaped. "You saved our lives."

She didn't know what to say except for, "I just hope Lee's alright. He was unconscious."

Then Fred realized something and exclaimed, though still at a whisper, "Hey! How come you're all dry?"

"I...I don't know," she stammered, "That always happens...I don't know why."

Everyone else was starting to notice the same thing and began whispering to each other, though it only seemed to increase their awe of her. Then Professor McGonagall returned carrying a four-legged stool and a worn, old, pointed hat, and with Lee following behind. He looked pale, but was breathing and eating some chocolate. Each bite made more color come to his cheeks.

He approached their group and Fred looked about to say something, but Professor McGonagall got there first. "Form a line, now, and follow me. We are ready for you."

Lee finished his chocolate and got into line behind Ash as though she would keep him safe. Behind him was Chance and in front of the three of them the twins walked. They were led through the entrance hall and through the set of double doors leading to a mass of noise that was the Great Hall.

Thousands of candles floated in midair above all their heads and four long tables where all the other students were sitting. Shiny golden plates and goblets were laid on the tables including another at the top of the hall where the teachers all sat. It was between this head table and the rest of them, on a small set of steps, where the first years were led by Professor McGonagall. Dotted among the students some ghosts, shimmering, pale, and transparent, also sat, shining a misty silver in the candlelight. Ash looked up to the ceiling to see if it was as high as the entrance hall, to find a dark, cloudy, rainy sky. Ash vaguely remembered something she'd read over the summer from her textbooks that said it was bewitched to look like the sky outside. It was hard to believe it was even a ceiling except that the rain never reached them.

It seemed all the other first years were staring at it, too, because when Ash looked forward once more, all their faces were turned up. The whole room turned silent as Professor McGonagall placed the stool in front of them and the wizard's hat on top. It was very patched and frayed in several places, and a kind of dusty brown color, though it probably was once black. She just began to wonder what it was for when a rip just above the brim opened wide and the hat sang:

_For thousands of years have I been_

_The one to sort you, I look within._

_For I have a thinker, like no other hat,_

_I'll put you in houses and that is that._

_If you be chivalrous and daring,_

_Soon Gryffindor's red you will be wearing._

_If knowledge your attention draws,_

_Then blue it is for Ravenclaw._

_If you be a hard working fellow,_

_Hufflepuff go don your yellow._

_If ambitious dreams should bring you glee,_

_Slytherin's green your robes will be._

_Since Hogwarts began, it's been my role_

_To say in which of these you'll stroll._

_But first put me upon your head._

_I've never been wrong, so have no dread._

_I'll divide each from the others._

_I will tell you your true colors._

The whole school applauded and the hat bowed to the four tables, then became completely motionless again. Ash elbowed Fred in the ribs. All they had to do was try on the hat, after all he'd been going on about a test. Each of the houses sounded just as good as the others as far as Ash could tell by the Sorting Hat's song. Looking over at the table where the students wore green and silver-striped ties and a badge on their robes with a snake on it, however, she found they looked like a rather motley crew.

Professor McGonagall then stepped forward with a long roll of parchment and directed, "When I call your name, you will come forward and put on the hat to be sorted. Abney, Laura!"

A brunette girl stepped up from near the front of the line and sat down, putting on the hat that went down all the way past her eyes. A moment passed and the hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!" A table on the left erupted in cheers.

The next girl became a Hufflepuff, and then there was another Ravenclaw. A Slytherin came next. As the students went up, Ash noticed that the hat took longer to announce the house of some people than others. Katie Bell became the first Gryffindor, taking nearly a half a minute, and Angelina Johnson joined her later, though she took barely a second.

Then, "Jordan, Lee!" was called.

He stepped out from behind Ash looking pale again. She gave him a pat on the back as he slowly approached the stool. He sat there for several seconds before the hat shouted loudly, "GRYFFINDOR!"

He smiled, took off the hat and practically skipped to join the twins' brothers.

A few names later the professor called, "Morgan, Ashley!"

Without hesitation she straightened herself up, walked to the stool and stuck the hat on her head. Little Hunter jumped to her lap so that be brim wouldn't fall on him. All the faces disappeared behind the old hat and all she could see was the black inside of it. A hoarse old voice, the same that sang the song and shouted house names, seemed so small now speaking into her ear. "Ah. Very brave and generous, perhaps a bit heroic. But witty, too. Let's see...that's interesting. Incredible ability, yes. Set your mind to anything, you could do it. A little of everything, eh?"

She suddenly felt a shiver. She didn't _want_ to be in Slytherin and she wouldn't be able to say why. But the hat couldn't possibly put her there if it knew she could never live with it.

"Hint of defiance, there, indeed," it continued, "You don't want to be in Slytherin, I see. You could achieve anything, you know. Ah, a muggle-born? Not very obvious, that. Well, it rules out Slytherin. Alright. Hmm. Saved lives already? Well, then it better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word was shouted for everyone to hear, and the Gryffindor table burst into clapping and cheering. Lee was cheering louder than anyone, and even the Weasley twins who hadn't been sorted yet were roaring with hurrahs. She sat down beside the dreadlocked boy and finally got a proper view of the High Table. Albus Dumbledore, whom she recognized from one of her Chocolate Frog cards, sat in the middle on a big golden chair. Hagrid the huge man was on the end closest to her, and there was one empty seat on Dumbledore's right that she presumed was Professor McGonagall's chair.

With the empty plates and goblets in front of her, Ash suddenly felt very hungry, but there were still ten more people to be sorted. After two more Slytherins and a Ravenclaw, Chance approached the stool. He sat there for a full minute, looking like he was struggling quite a bit, until the hat finally shouted "GRYFFINDOR!" He sat down on her other side, opened his mouth to say something, then decided not to say whatever it was. Ash didn't mind. It seemed wrong to tell or hear what the Sorting Hat said to others.

Two Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw, and anther Hufflepuff later Fred and George were the last two left. Fred went up first, and the hat said "GRYFFINDOR!" almost immediately. The same thing happened for George. They sat across from Ash, Lee, and Chance next to a ghost wearing a ruff and tights who was looking longingly at the clean dishes. She wasn't sure if ghosts could eat, but this one sure looked like he wanted to.

Professor McGonagall rolled up the scroll of parchment and carried the stool and hat out of the hall. Albus Dumbledore stood up, and beamed brightly at all the students over his half-moon spectacles. In robes of sky-blue he couldn't have looked happier. "Welcome!" he said with his great silver beard shining in the candlelight. "Welcome everyone to a new year at Hogwarts! I'd be delighted to make a speech at any time but this! So eat up!"

Everyone clapped and laughed appreciatively as he sat back down. In a blink all the hall was filled with delicious food. All the dishes were piled with everything her stomach could possibly imagine and more. Roast beef, chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, chips, fried fish, sautéed potatoes, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, corn, carrots, peas, gravy, Yorkshire pudding, and huge flagons of pumpkin juice. Everything was delicious.

The ghost sighed watching Fred cut up his steak. Chance began to ask, "Don't you—?"

"I'm afraid not. I don't suppose I've introduced myself? I'm Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, Gryffindor's resident ghost."

Percy addressed him from the other side of Lee, "Hello Sir Nicholas. How was your summer?" It sounded like a very routine question, and already felt repetitive.

"Miserable. Every time I request to join the Headless Hunt I am denied."

"Sorry to hear that, Sir," Percy replied looking sincere.

"Ow kumey wandoo haydeshun?" George asked through a mouthful of potatoes.

"Sorry, what was that?" Sir Nicholas asked politely.

George swallowed and repeated, "How come you want to do the Headless Hunt?"

"Because I would if my beheader had done the job properly!"

"How can someone mess up a beheading?" Lee asked.

The ghost looked as if it had come to something he had hoped not to share but answered anyway, "Like _this_." Seizing hold of his left ear, he yanked and his head swung off, clinging on by a string of muscle and skin. The looks on the faces of some other surrounding first years seemed to cheer him up, and Sir Nicholas put his head back on looking pleased. He pulled up his ruff around his neck and floated away.

They continued eating, and just when they were full and ready for dessert, the dishes cleared to be replaced with pies, tarts, ice cream of every flavor, doughnuts, trifle, and puddings. They helped themselves once more and Ash began to feel ready to climb into a nice warm, soft bed...

Eventually the desserts, too, disappeared and Professor Dumbledore stood up again. Everyone fell silent as though the old wizard had cast a spell. "Now that we've all been filled to our stomach's content, I have a few announcements. I remind all of you that the Forbidden Forest, as its name implies, is forbidden to all students. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term and anyone wishing to play for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And one more thing before we go to bed! It is time to sing the school song!" With a flick of his wand, a long golden line of words flew out and above the tables. "Everyone pick a tune and sing!"

And the whole school hollered:

"_Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,_

_Teach us something please,_

_Whether we be, old and bald_

_Or young with scabby knees,_

_Our heads could do with filling_

_With some interesting stuff,_

_For now they're bare and full of air,_

_Dead flies and bits of fluff,_

_So teach us thing worth knowing,_

_Bring back what we've forgot,_

_Just do your best, we'll do the rest,_

_And learn until our brains all rot."_

Everyone finished at different times. The Weasley twins sang such a fast tune they were the first to finish. Finally only Charlie and one of his friends were left singing a very slow ballad. When they finished the last note Dumbledore clapped the loudest and sighed, "Wonderful! Music! And now to bed. Spot, spot!"

A fifth year boy wearing a prefect badge called out, "Gryffindor first years this way!" So they followed him and another prefect girl sleepily out of the Great Hall and up through the castle. They were too drowsy to notice that the paintings, which were everywhere, were moving, or that they were led many times through passages or doors hidden by tapestries. They went up countless staircases and past a corridor in which lots of loud banging and screaming could be heard.

"That's Peeves the poltergeist," the boy they were following explained. "You should try to avoid him." Instead of going through the particular corridor, they took a detour around it. Soon, just as Ash felt as though she could fall asleep standing, he announced, "Here we are."

They stood at the end of a corridor where there hung a large portrait of a very fat lady in a fancy, silk, pink dress, and with big brown curls for hair. She asked the group, "Password?"

"_Architeuthis dux_," he answered, and the portrait swung aside for them to climb through. Inside was a warm, cozy common room the prefect said something about dormitories. She followed some other girls up to one of the dormitories all the way to the very top of the tower; a door on the left said "first years" on the sign. Six four-poster, red velvet-curtained beds were arranged to fit inside the room with each of their trunks as well. Everyone picked a bed, got into their pajamas, and fell asleep without a word.


	5. The End

Hello. I am the author. This is the end of this fanfiction.

Let's face it: Ash was a Mary Sue. She deserved to die.


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